pissing each other off?”
Ally sighed against me. “I know you’re trying to be a smartass right now, but to be honest, I don’t really know how the dynamics of a long-term relationship work. Neither one of us has a solid example from childhood. Maybe it depends on the people in it having an ongoing conversation?”
“Fine. We’re conversing. What do you want a say in?”
“Everything that affects me that doesn’t involve your money,” she shot back.
“Ally, I don’t want my… you lying awake at night trying to figure out if you need to skip meals to make ends meet.” I wanted to take care of her. I wanted to take her worries and concerns and problems and solve every last one of them so she could focus all of her attention on me. And Brownie of course. I wasn’t a completely selfish monster.
She was going to argue with me again, but I was suddenly too tired to fight it out.
“Look, can we figure this out later?” I asked. I didn’t want her drawing lines when I wasn’t thinking clearly enough to redraw them properly.
She would live here. She would have anything and everything she needed. No one would ever take advantage of her or lay a hand on her ever again. End of fucking story. I was her Prince Fucking Charming.
“Okay. But only because I’m so tired I’m seeing two of you.” She sighed.
“Come on,” I said, taking her arm and leading her up the stairs.
Brownie bolted ahead of us.
“We’re just sleeping, right?” Ally asked as we turned into the bedroom.
“Just sleeping,” I agreed, dragging my shirt over my head. “Naked sleeping.”
“How’s your hydration?” she asked, pulling off her sweatshirt to reveal the stars of all future fantasies for me, her bare breasts.
“Great. Totally rehydrated,” I lied. “How’s the soreness?”
“Hardly feel a thing,” she fibbed. I could tell it wasn’t the truth because her neck flared red like a beacon.
I took off my pants, my cock already flying like a flag.
“Just sleep,” I promised, watching as she removed her leggings and underwear. We stared at each other, naked and maybe even a little vulnerable, from opposite sides of the bed.
The linens were an unholy mess from our gymnastics mere hours ago. So much had changed so quickly, and there was so much more to come.
But I wouldn’t break that to her now. She’d been through enough for one day… or twelve hours.
For now, I would settle for holding her while I worked out what needed to happen next.
We slipped under the blankets, Brownie making himself comfortable at our feet. And when Ally hesitated, I made the decision for her, pulling her against me. Her back to my chest. My face to her hair.
She hissed out a breath and an honest to God giggle when her ass wiggled against my hard-on.
“Just sleep,” I promised her again.
“I won’t be sore forever,” she hinted.
“Shh,” I ordered, not ready to test my own chivalry or hydration levels.
She settled against me, sighed, and was fast asleep within minutes.
Having her in my arms, in my bed, felt foreign. Familiar. Right. Wrong. And everything in between.
We slept for three hours.
And when I woke with her round, soft ass pressed against my erection, I thanked my lucky stars. When she rolled over and looked at me with sleepy eyes and “please” on her lips, I promised my soul to whatever deity had delivered her to my bed. And when I slipped inside her slowly, sweetly, when she sighed out my name, I wondered if maybe I’d finally been forgiven for my own sins.
One thing I knew for sure when I felt her start to surrender was that I was going to fix everything for her. Whether she wanted me to or not.
55
Ally
I was officially living in an alternate universe.
Not only had I spent the night in Dominic Russo’s bed—and surprisingly snuggly arms—now I was riding with him to work. The streets had been cleared of yesterday’s modest snowfall, leaving the pavement clean and wet.
A new start. A blank canvas.
It looked as though there would be one for us too. We’d been summoned.
By his mother.
And I wasn’t sure if that was a good or very, very bad thing. HR and management could easily decide to fire us both.
Or just one of us. And I already knew which one of us that would be.
Just because Label had made strides since Paul Russo’s reign of terror didn’t mean that the son of the editor-in-chief would be judged on the same level as